by Phillip Doddridge
Ye humble souls, that seek the Lord,
Chase all your fears away;
And bow with rapture down to see
The place where Jesus lay.
Thus low the Lord of Life was brought;
Such wonders love can do:
Thus cold in death that bosom lay,
Which throbb’d and bled for you.
But raise your eyes, and tune your songs,
The Saviour lives again:
Not all the bolts and bars of death
The Conqueror could detain.
High o’er the’ angelic bands He rears
His once-dishonour’d head;
And through unnumber’d years He reigns,
Who dwelt among the dead.
With joy like His shall every saint
His vacant tomb survey;
Then rise with his ascending Lord
To realms of endless day.